


265 - Fun With Bondy, at Bondy's Expensive

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-04-07
Packaged: 2019-04-19 14:40:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14239476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “van, reader and bondy fic where like maybe bondy walks in on the reader getting changed and it causes sexual tension? No smut just lots of tension and flirting you know?”





	265 - Fun With Bondy, at Bondy's Expensive

You never really got over kissing Bondy. Everybody else did. Bondy did. Even Van, who had loved you for years, did. But in the early hours of the morning after, with a pounding head and cloudy vision, you remembered. 

It was a drunken game of truth or dare. “Y/N… kiss… the boy in the room you think’s the hottest,” she’d said. “Wait! No! Not including Van though.” Watching you happily kiss your boyfriend wouldn’t be much fun for them.

“It’s ya lucky day, mate,” Van said then loudly to Bondy, who was sitting next to him. They were leaning against the bedroom wall. Your group had broken off from the rest of the party and made a nest between a bed and a wall. Bondy rolled his head around to face Van.

“Huh?”

You hit Van’s arm before he could say anything more. He knew that you thought Bondy was a bit of a babe. There was something about his stubble-covered jawline and his quick wit that made your tummy feel a little wobbly. Whenever he wore his Them Things t-shirt with the sleeves cut off… Oh fuck, you were gone. 

Of course, Bondy didn’t know that. Van did because after any night out, you debriefed about all the babes you saw. Bondy was a reoccurring character. Van liked to tease you about it, but he never got jealous. He knew he had you wrapped around his finger, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

“Has to be a boy?” you asked the darer. She nodded. Disappointing. You looked at Van, who had a stupid grin on his face that stretched from ear to ear. Van in your mild, amusing discomfort was like a pig in mud. Shaking your head at him then redirecting your attention to Bondy, you shrugged. “You’re it then, Mister Johnny Bond,” you announced in a voice that was definitely meant to be comical and calm, but came out small.

“Really?” he asked genuinely. You nodded. “Is it just ‘cause you know me an’ don’t wanna kiss a stranger?” Van and you shook your heads at the same time. You hit him again. “Wow. Okay. Yeah. Right. Come 'ere then,” Bondy said, sitting up and opening his arms.

You gently moved and sat on his thighs; he’d uncrossed his legs and stretched them out in front of him. Without so much as a glance in Van’s direction, Bondy put his hands on your hips and smirked up at you.

The kiss was relatively innocent. It was shallow, your tongues barely touching. A few seconds and you were pulling away. The friends around you clapped and you returned to Van’s side, nestled under his arm and back in the safety of the beautiful known.

Days, weeks, and a month went by and you never really got over kissing Bondy. Everyone else did. It wasn’t even old news; it was never news to begin with. It never registered as more than a cheap dare to anyone. You and Van didn’t talk about it after either. It was just… a non-event.

You thought about it at the strangest times though. Waiting in line to buy groceries you’d imagine what it would have been like to have his hands grip your hips harder. Washing the dishes you’d think about the taste of his mouth compared to Van’s. And when your path crossed with Bondy’s, you felt strange. Slightly out of sync. Maybe ahead by a few seconds, or maybe behind. Perpetual déjà vu. Perpetual surrealism. Naturally, Van noticed and poked your tummy and winked at you constantly. He wasn’t subtle, but he wasn’t jealous, and that is what mattered most.

…

“Y/N!? Y/N!” Van yelled. His heavy footsteps came down the hallway and through the bedroom door.

“Jesus, Van,” you muttered, grabbing the towel on the bed to cover yourself.

Van snorted and walked over, pushing his hands under the towel. “You do know that I’ve seen ya naked before, right? Been together for a bit, you know?”

“Yeah, but… still something kinda… shocking about someone walking in when you’re changing,” you told him.

Van moved his hands to hold your face. He kissed your forehead twice then stepped away, moving back towards the door. “Better hurry up and get somethin’ on. Guys will be here soon,”

“Yep. Okay.”

Van disappeared to wait out on the front steps for his band. He always waited for people out there, pretending he was just having a quick smoke, but really he was just excited to see his friends, family, or band. It was a cute habit that you adored.

You could hear the voices of the guys as you stood trying to work out what to wear. You’d committed to underwear at least, and narrowed the outfit choices down to two. White pants with black polka dots, a cool version of palazzos. Basic black long sleeve t-shirt. Alternatively, a pretty peach coloured skater dress. As you held the dress up, the bedroom door swung open and you turned quickly to tell Van you needed another ten minutes.

Van was not at the door. Van was not the one holding onto the handle with one hand and pointing to you with the other. Van was not the one frozen in time and space with a smirk on his face. Bondy was. You looked at each other, paralysed by the tension.

“Mate! What ya-Babe! Y/N! Do you guys need a fuckin’ minute alone, or are we good?” Van said as he arrived, joining Bondy in the doorway and slinging an arm around his shoulder.

“Fuck. Yeah. Sorry,” Bondy said, going red across the tops of his cheeks. He looked away from you at the same time, and he tried to take a step back but Van held him in place. “I’ll, ah… Sorry, Y/N,” he muttered, ducking away from Van and making an awkward exit.

“Sorry,” you said to Van, who was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

“For what, babe? For still not bein’ ready or for prancin’ naked in front of ya number one fan?” You threw the peach dress at him. He laughed as it hooded him. “This what you’re wearing?”

“It’s a maybe. That or the spotty pants,” you replied, holding the pants up.

Van looked at them, then back at the dress in his hands. He walked to you, kicking the door closed behind him. The dress went on the bed, and he took the pants from you and threw them down too.

“You look good in anything,” he said. Unhelpful.

Van ignored your shaking head. He grinned and buried his head in the crook of your neck. As his lips pressed gentle kisses along your skin in an even line that was so trademark Van, his hands ran down your arms, around your hips and up your back. His palms were warm, and he knew to press hard against the base of your spine and to drag his fingertips through your hair.

“I'll… I’ll go like this…” you mumbled, eyes closed, face cradled in one of Van’s hands as the other roamed. You tilted your head a little so you could kiss his palm.

“Sure the lads would love that,” he whispered back, revelling in how quick you were falling to pieces. “But I reckon the spotty pants,” he added, his voice returned to normal. He stepped away from you quickly and headed to the door, throwing you a smug look over his shoulder. “Hurry up. We’re gonna be late.”

…

Two cars were taken to the restaurant where Catfish were meeting with their management and the label. As you climbed into the back of one, squished between Van and Larry (“Why are you coming?” “Why are you?”), you glanced at the window as Bondy got into the driver’s seat of the other. 

Throughout the dinner, he didn’t so much as look in your direction. That alone was an indicator that he was thinking about you. In what capacity he was doing so was the unknown.

When Bondy returned from the bathroom, he passed the table and headed straight outside for a smoke. Van watched you track his movements.

“Think he still feels weird,” Van whispered to you, watching his guitarist exit.

“I thought so too but… thought maybe I was imagining it? What should we do? Should we go talk to him?”

Van thought for a second, then shrugged a little. “Guess so. You go see if he’s alright. I’ll be out in a sec.”

Bondy wasn’t out the front of the restaurant. It was a no smoking zone and all the boys were polite, even if they pretended to be rock and roll. You found him on the side street, leaning against the wall. When you turned the corner, he looked up and said nothing as you approached. Even as you stood by his side, pressing your back against the wall and your side into his, he said nothing.

“Hi.”

He hesitated. “Hey,”

“You okay?” you asked, looking at him. He nodded, still not looking back at you. “I went with the pants.” You stuck a leg out and twirled your ankle. Bondy watched it spin in the air, grateful that you gave him something specific to focus on, rather than having to pay attention to your legs. Thighs. Softness. Prettiness. Kisses.

“I liked the dress,” Bondy said. “I mean! I like both. Nothing wrong with the pants. Look fine,”

“Fine?” you asked for the fun of it. He was still avoiding eye contact so he missed the smirk on your face.

“Yeah. No. Uh. Look good, love. Look good whatever you wear,”

“Even if I wear nothing?”

He couldn’t help it then. Bondy looked at you to read your expression, your intent. The sly smile reassured him that nothing unfaithful was happening. He smiled back just as Van appeared from around the corner. You stood up straight to greet him in a hug that stayed put. As you hung from Van’s frame, you pressed your head into his chest and exhaled.

“Even if you wear nothing what?” he asked.

“Bondy said I should’ve worn the dress,” you informed him. “Said I look fine though, so it’s alright,” you added, turning to look at Bondy. He shook his head at you.

“That’s not what I said,”

“Then he said that I look good whatever I wear,” you continued. Bondy tried to keep his eyes on you, but he was too worried about what Van was thinking not to flick his gaze to him every couple of seconds.

“Great minds, John! That’s exactly what I said,” Van exclaimed. You could feel Van’s hand move from being casually held behind your back. The touching began innocently; it was just hands running up and down your spine, across your shoulder blades. “What I’ve always said. What you’ve always said too, huh, John?” Van kissed the top of your head as his hands found your ass and gently took hold through the thin material of the spotty pants. “Remember when we first met her? You met her, an’ came to tell me 'bout this girl. What did you call her again? Said she looked like a girl from them romantic paintings,”

“Romanticism era,” Bondy mumbled, lighting a second cigarette as means of distraction.

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it! 'Cause they’re all soft and stuff, right? And I knew exactly who you were talking about, because I was already in love with her.” Van turned his face back to you, moving one hand to gently cup your face. “It was that dress. It was all lacey and not proper white. Like, creamy white. Fuck, you looked so beautiful. Everyone thought so,”

“Tom said he’d fight you for her,” Bondy suddenly said.

Van laughed. “I forgot about that!”

“What?” you asked.

“We used to know this guy named Tom. He was at the party and he was like… obsessed, you know what I mean?”

“He had found all your socials within a fuckin’ minute. It was super creepy,” Bondy told you.

“Yeah, and when he found out that you and me were talking and that you liked me-”

“A surprise to everyone,” from Bondy.

Van ignored him. “Tom was pissed. He said me and him should, like, have a proper fight,”

“That's… Wow… Why didn’t you try to win me in combat if you thought I was a fuckin’ painting?” you asked Bondy, turning to look at him, stepping out of Van’s arms.

Bondy smirked. “Wasn’t in love with ya, Y/N. Just thought you were beautiful. Besides. You ain’t a thing to be won. Can you fuckin’ imagine if one of us stupid boys came up and was like 'yeah, mind the blood, love, just got in a bit of a punch on but I won, so I own ya now,’ or something.”

Van laughed. They looked at each other, amused with the memory of Tom and his stupid fucking idea. They both knew you’d do worse damage to whoever was idiotic enough to dare say something like that.

“I don’t remember what you were wearing,” you said to Van, looking at him with your head tilted to the side slightly. He narrowed his eyes at you; he knew that look on your face. “But, I remember what you were wearing.” Bondy watched as you stepped closer to him. You were definitely in his personal space, but he didn’t seem to mind. He lowered his smoke and dropped the leg that was arched against the wall. “You had jeans on. I remember saying to you that they looked so clean and that the black looked so dark. You said it was 'cause they were new, then told me about your new boots too,”

“Probably was nervous,” he said.

“Like you are now, ya mean?” Van said quietly. He had moved to lean against the wall too. When you glanced over at him for a second, the orange ember on the tip of his cigarette was glowing bright.

“But the reason I started talking to you was 'cause you were wearing velvet, which I’m a sucker for. It was the deep red one, with the pockets. You had it rolled up to your elbows, but like literally rolled,”

“Oh yeah!” Bondy laughed. “You unrolled it and folded them neatly,”

“And undid a button,” you added.

“This before or after you met me?” Van asked.

Bondy looked over at him and grinned, then looked back at you. “Jealous, mate?” Bondy asked him.

“Never,” he replied casually.

“Never?!” Bondy repeated, the disbelief more than evident in his voice.

Van raised an eyebrow and pushed off from the wall. His competitiveness was set alight. Rivalry was heavy in the air, almost palpable. Bondy stood straight too, and being closer to you than Van, he slung an arm around your shoulder and nestled you close in. He tilted his head back and looked over at his friend.

“Never,” Van said again, his voice low and sure.

“Not even now?” Bondy asked. He moved slowly. Deliberately. He leaned into you and kissed your cheek. Against yourself, you giggled. Van snorted and shook his head. “Not… now?” Bondy asked again. He took you by the hips and pulled you in close. Wrapping his arms around you, Bondy’s hands moved slowly down your back. Where had his sudden confidence come from? Why were your knees getting shaky?

“Told ya. Not the jealous type,” Van reiterated. He tried to act casual by leaning his shoulder and side on the wall, but he was watching you intently. He was not so much as interested in Bondy’s hands as your reaction to them.

“Van’s a natural sharer,” you whispered.

“Wouldn’t 'ave picked you for the type that wants to be shared, Y/N,” Bondy said. He was holding you in a hug, and with the sun almost entirely set and the side street unlit by lamps, it was dark around you. Their cigarettes and the cars passing by the road ahead were the only sources of light. You were comfortable. Warm. Loved. Tingly.

“I’m not,” you said.

“She’s just the type to cause a stir,” Van added.

“Of course she does. Both do. It’s why you’re good together,” Bondy replied. He started to rock side to side gently. “What 'bout you, Y/N?”

“What about me what?” you asked, watching Van watch you.

“Jealous type?”

Van started to snigger before you could even answer. It was all the answer Bondy needed, but any topic that fired you up was worth pursuing. Like Van, you were wildly entertaining when emotive.

“Why are you laughing! I’m not!” you said, stepping out of Bondy’s embrace and standing with your hands on your hips. It hard was to see their exact expressions, but you knew they’d both have stupid, amused looks on their faces. “When have I ever been jealous?”

“No, you’re totally right, Y/N. You’re not the jealous type. At all,” Van said, the sarcasm heavy in his voice. Bondy laughed.

“No. Fuck off. When?”

“What?” Van asked, voice high pitched. “I’m agreeing with you, love!”

You glared at him through the twilight air. Bondy moved then, walking to Van and wrapping an arm around his waist. Van mirrored it, and they began to walk back towards the road, the restaurant. Quickly, you followed along behind them.

“Um…” you started in a quiet voice. They didn’t stop walking, but Van looked over his shoulder at you. “I know this kind of proves your point… but…” You held out a hand, a silent beg for touch and attention. Van took it, pulling you next to him. His spare arm hooked around you and he leaned in and kissed your head.

“Jealous of me and John, huh?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you said. “You do make a good looking couple.”


End file.
